


Playing Away

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: The Ambush series [11]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Did I say high chance of smut?, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, High chance of smut, It’s arrived
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-09 00:11:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17396402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Summary: This is a sequel to Working Away. You don’t have to have read that, but it might help.I’ve put it in the Ambush series, but it belongs in Octavia Street too - I had to pick.





	1. Material Girl

**Author's Note:**

> I have done something I never do, and thrown a chapter out without having anything else written yet, so do please bear with. I have all the ideas...

“Robin...” Ilsa hesitated, idly fingering the edge of a dress hanging on the rail.

Robin looked across from the other side of the boutique. They’d not been shopping long. Coffee and, later, lunch awaited. Robin loved poking around the shops in Wandsworth with her friend. “What’s up?”

“Remember when we had that wine night a couple of months ago and got a bit tipsy, and you told me about that time you surprised Cormoran when he was away with work? When you played strangers meeting in a bar?”

Robin grinned. “I remember.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking. I’ve never done anything like that with Nick.”

“Are you considering it?” Robin was intrigued now. She moved across to look at the dress Ilsa was still touching, dark blue, silky.

“Well, what if we did it together? You know, when the boys go to the cup final at the end of the month?”

Robin pondered. It was a long-planned trip, Strike and Nick having secured tickets to the match in which Arsenal were playing Spurs. For reasons Robin didn’t understand, the match was being played in Cardiff rather than at Wembley. The men had booked train tickets and a hotel for the night.

“Only Nick was talking about booking a second night, making a boys’ weekend of it, looking round Cardiff, having an evening out with Corm,” Ilsa went on. “You know, like they used to years and years ago. And I was teasing him saying they’d better not be going on the pull, and I suddenly thought...”

Robin grinned again. “What if we give them a night to remember? I like it!”

Ilsa winked at her. “You up for it?”

“Definitely!” Robin replied.

“So what do you think?” Ilsa held the dress up against herself, but Robin shook her head.

“My Venetia dress is that colour,” she said. “And I might as well get another use out of it. He liked it well enough last time!”

Ilsa chuckled. “I’d better look for something else, then. Green? I usually go blue or green.”

“I know,” Robin said. “But you’re not being Ilsa this time. You’re being... What’s your middle name?”

“Caitlin.”

“I think Caitlin is a very different woman from Ilsa. That’s the whole point.” Robin wandered along the next rack. “Caitlin would wear this.” She held up a scarlet dress.

Ilsa’s eyes widened in shock. “That’s...bold.”

Robin winked. “So is picking up a married man in a bar, but Caitlin’s going to do that too! At least try it on.”

Ilsa looked doubtful, but she nodded and took the dress and went into the fitting rooms.

Robin amused herself looking at tops and starting to plan the trip in her head. She’d need to make sure the work diary stayed clear for the Monday after the match, and have Barclay and Andy reserved in case any surveillance was needed. The office would be closed for the day if she and Strike were both away, and she’d need to plan for that eventuality without him knowing.

“Robin!” Ilsa hissed.

Robin poked her head into the fitting rooms. “What?”

“Come in here.”

Robin stepped into the main changing area and regarded the closed cubicle door, amused. “You come out. Better lighting out here.”

The door opened and Ilsa stepped out. Robin stared at her. “Wow.”

“I can’t wear this.”

“Oh, Ilsa, you have to.”

Ilsa looked at herself in the full-length mirror. “I can’t! Look at my tits!”

Robin giggled. “Yeah, but on the other hand, look at your tits! Nick certainly will be!”

Ilsa blushed. “So will everyone else!”

“Ah, we’ll get you a wrap,” Robin reassured her. “Seriously, Ilsa, look at yourself through your man’s eyes, not your mother’s.”

Ilsa looked at herself in the mirror again. The dress was beautiful. The wrapover style made her waist look tiny and her hips look curvy. The stretchy material clung round her bottom and ended just above the knee. The rich, vibrant colour made her skin look paler, her hair more blonde. She had to admit she looked good. She just wished she had a little more coverage over her cleavage. She tugged at the sides of the material a little.

“I promise you, Ils, my Venetia dress is the same,” Robin said. “You could wear a little cami top if you wanted, but you won’t need it. I know it’s not what you’re used to, flashing the flesh. Nor was I. But it’s worth it to see their jaws drop.” Her eyes were lighting up as plans poured into her head. “Let’s book a room at the same hotel to get ready in. Take a couple of mini bottles of Prosecco for Dutch courage. Nick so has to see you in that dress.”

Ilsa nodded. “I really want him to, I just don’t know if I can wear it in public,” she worried.

“We’ll wrap you in a pashmina, I’ve got a lovely black one,” Robin reassured her. “Fold it into your bag once we find the men. No one will dare ogle you if we’re with Cormoran and Nick. Honestly, Ilsa, you look so sexy, I quite fancy you myself!”

Ilsa laughed. “Okay,” she said, bold suddenly. “But only because I really want to see Nick’s face. I don’t know if he’s ever seen me in red, and I never show this much of me off!”

“Fab,” Robin cried. “Have you got shoes? Something tall and black and strappy?”

“Um...”

“Right, pay for that and then we’re going shoe shopping. And underwear. He absolutely has to find underwear he’s never seen before when he unwraps you.”

Ilsa glanced at Robin out of the corner of her eye, giggling. “You are a dark horse.”

Robin grinned shamelessly. “Not me. This is Venetia talking. I bet Venetia and Caitlin get up to all sorts of shenanigans. That’s the fun of role play, you can behave how you wouldn’t normally.” She lowered her voice. “You should have seen Cormoran’s face the first time he saw Venetia in that bar. He was practically drooling.”

Ilsa giggled again, delighted at the thought of having the same effect on her husband. “Right, shoes and underwear!”

...

Two hours later, they were poring over lunch menus at their favourite bistro. Ilsa was surrounded by bags containing the dress, some beautiful high-heeled peep-toe shoes with delicate ankle straps, and the underwear Robin had insisted she buy, a bra that created even more cleavage to show off in the crossover dress, and some matching, impossibly tiny knickers. She was blushing just at the thought of wearing them in public, but Robin had assured her they were perfect for under the dress.

“I have to somehow hide all this now,” Ilsa giggled.

“Ooh, new perfume too,” Robin said suddenly. “Confuse all his senses at once.”

Ilsa laughed. “You clearly put a lot of thought into this,” she noted, winking.

Robin smiled a little dreamily. “It was worth it,” she said. “And I just wanted Venetia to be as different from me as possible. Now, how do you feel about the walk of shame?”

Ilsa looked at her. “In the morning? We have to leave?”

Robin nodded. “Before they’re awake. It’s supposed to be a one-night stand, remember?”

“He’s my husband!”

“No, he’s not,” Robin explained patiently. “He’s Ilsa’s husband. You’re Caitlin, the mysterious femme fatale he picks up in a bar when he’s supposed to be away on a boys’ weekend, that he never tells you about.”

Ilsa laughed. “You’ve seriously never discussed it with Corm?”

“Nope!” Robin grinned triumphantly. “I texted him the next morning, after my walk of shame across Chester - which was pretty hideous, by the way - and asked him how his night was. He told me he’d watched TV and had an early night, and we never mentioned it again.”

“Wow.” Ilsa looked impressed. “So you’ve just had your stuff hidden all this time?”

“Yup, it’s in a box under my bed at my flat. I’ll keep yours too, if you like. But the good thing is, if we do book a room to get changed in, we can change back again there in the morning, and at least we just look like early leavers in our jeans, rather than like one-night stands creeping out in last night’s cocktail dresses!”

“Ooh, good plan. Yes, the less I have to wear that dress in public, the better.” Ilsa looked at Robin curiously. “So you really walked across Chester in your dress?”

“Yeah, that’s why I think we should book a room. I didn’t, I stowed a rucksack at left luggage at the station and changed in the loos. Much less fun and kind of icky.”

Ilsa shuddered. “We definitely need a room,” she said. “And hey, if we can’t find the men, we’ll have somewhere to sleep.”

“We’ll find them,” Robin said confidently.

“How?”

“I know the passcode to Cormoran’s phone. I’ll just turn on the find my phone function a couple of days before he goes. It’s buried in the settings, he probably won’t spot it. Then I can track him online.”

Ilsa looked at her sideways. “You’re kind of scary sometimes.”

Robin winked. “I’m a detective. I can track my own boyfriend, even in a city as large as Cardiff. Now let’s order, I’m starving.”

Ilsa nodded and turned her attention back to her menu, grinning quietly to herself. This was going to be fun.

 


	2. Beautiful Things

Robin and Ilsa found their seats on the train, stowed their cases on the overhead rack and sat down. They placed their takeaway coffees and sandwiches on the table between them. It was just over two hours to Cardiff Central from Paddington. They settled themselves in for the journey, chatting and planning.

“Ready for tonight?” Robin asked, grinning. Ilsa nodded eagerly.

“I’ve been so looking forward to it. You’ve got all my stuff, right?”

“Yup. Dress, shoes, underwear, perfume. Are you wearing tights?”

“Don’t think so, it’s pretty warm. Guess what I have got, though?”

Robin was intrigued. “What?”

The outskirts of London slid by the window as Ilsa dug in her bag. “Contacts!” she said, waving the packet with a flourish.

Robin leaned forward. “Lenses? I didn’t know you wore them.”

“I don’t,” Ilsa giggled. “But Caitlin does. And guess what? They’re brown. A light brown.”

Robin squeaked with delight and clapped her hands. “That’s excellent, you’ll look so different!”

Ilsa nodded. “They’ve taken a bit of getting used to, but I’ve been practising. It’ll be weird, I haven’t gone out in public without my glasses on since I was about thirteen. My face will feel naked.” She laughed. “Maybe it’ll take my mind off my naked chest!”

Robin laughed too. “Well, guess what I’ve got,” she said, and showed Ilsa the packet of slim cigarettes in her bag. Ilsa raised her eyebrows in surprise. “That was part of Venetia last time, that she smokes. I wonder if he’ll remember.”

Ilsa snorted. “Corm remembers everything,” she said. She looked out of the window for a moment. “I hope Ossie and Ricky are okay.”

“Is someone looking in on them?”

Ilsa shook her head. “It’s less than 24 hours,” she said. “I’ll be home by lunchtime. I put down an extra litter box and we’ve got one of those timer feeders. They’ve got each other. They’ll be fine.”

Robin nodded. There was a short pause.

“So...” Ilsa began, and went a little pink.

Robin grinned at her. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking. Could we - and hear me out, please - could we swap guys for the evening?”

Robin stared. “What?”

Ilsa giggled. “Not for the night. Just for, I don’t know, the first hour or so.”

“Why?” Robin was amused and puzzled.

“Well, I was thinking, you know when I said I was joking to Nick about him going on the pull? He was single when we met, and we got on so well straight away, and then when we met up again when we got back together, he was quite carefully neutral for a while because I was engaged to someone else.”

Robin looked surprised. “I didn’t know you’d been engaged before,” she said. “The things you learn!”

Ilsa flushed again. “It wasn’t for long, I soon realised it was Nick I was meant to be with,” she said. “But anyway. I’ve never actually seen him with another woman. I just had a feeling it might be...kind of hot, to see him flirt with someone. I mean, not really, obviously not a real person in a bar, but if it was you and it was a game... I don’t know, I thought it might make me remember what it was like when it was me he was chatting up.”

Robin grinned. “That might throw Cormoran off balance, too,” she said. “That’s part of what Venetia does, keep him on the back foot, keep him guessing. Yeah, let’s do it. You do realise you’ll have to act like you’re hitting on Cormoran, though?”

Ilsa giggled. “I’ll never keep a straight face, but I can try!” She leaned forward again. “And I was going to ask...”

“Go on.”

“Presumably this game can carry on, like...into the bedroom.”

Robin grinned. “It’s your one-night stand, you can do what you like.”

Ilsa sighed a little dreamily. “I’ve always had this...” She stopped and went pink again.

Robin watched her, amused. “What?”

“Well, Nick is always so... You know, he’s confident, but he’s respectful, gentle. He doesn’t...” Ilsa trailed off.

Robin chuckled. “You’d like him to ravish you?”

Ilsa laughed. “Well, yeah,” she said. “I know I could ask him to, but that kind of kills the spontaneity a bit, doesn’t it? You know, we’ve been together so long, I trust him utterly. I wouldn’t mind him...getting a bit forceful.” She was scarlet now.

Robin grinned. “You want him to fuck you into next Tuesday,” she said, and Ilsa squeaked in shock. Robin laughed, blushing a little herself now. “I read it in a raunchy story once, it stayed with me,” she said, laughing again at the mixture of shock and excitement on Ilsa’s face.

“Yes, I think... I think that’s what’s I mean,” Ilsa replied, giggling again.

Robin shook her head. “I can’t imagine sweet, mild-mannered Nick being like that,” she said.

“I know, but we’re different people tonight,” Ilsa said with a wink. “Has Venetia got any plans for Cormoran?”

It was Robin’s turn to blush a little. “Maybe,” she said. “He enjoyed his night with her last time, I’m pretty sure.”

Ilsa laughed again. “What are we like?” she said. “We’re going to have to really get into character before we set off.”

Robin laughed too. “We are!” she said. “Now, we need to plan the evening. We should grab some food, and then use the tracker to see where the men are so we can get into the hotel without being spotted.” She got out her phone to log into the find my phone website.

...

“Hey, it’s me.”

Nick smiled softly to hear his wife’s voice on the phone. He and Strike had just settled in with a pint in the first pub of the evening. They’d had a long day slowly exploring the sights of Cardiff, poking into a couple of museums and drinking large quantities of coffee that had given way to a slow beer before they sought out dinner and finally made their way to this pub. He was looking forward to a good evening of relaxed chat with his old friend.

“Hi, gorgeous. Where are you? Sounds like you’re out.”

“I’m having dinner with Robin.” _That’s true, at least,_ Ilsa thought.

“Ah, lovely. Give her my love.”

“I will do.” Ilsa caught Robin’s eye and almost giggled. Robin glared at her. She was on the phone to Strike, their dinner together being the cover for ringing at the same time to bid their menfolk good night.

“Miss you,” Robin told Strike, and was rewarded with his deep chuckle.

“I’ve only been gone one night. Thank you for manning the office tomorrow.”

“That’s okay.” Robin was glad Strike couldn’t see her blush. She wasn’t good at outright lies. She’d lent her keys to Barclay, but managed to rearrange clients so that only the one lot of surveillance needed doing in the morning, that Barclay was happy to take. He had her mobile number, he could ring if needed, but he was usually pretty independent.

The two couples chatted for a few minutes and said their goodbyes, leaving the men to contemplate another pint and the women giggling like teenagers over their bowls of pasta.

...

“Come on, let’s see you.”

Ilsa stepped shyly out of the bathroom, and Robin whistled at her, making her blush a little.

“Wow, you look fantastic, Ilsa. Total transformation.”

Ilsa nodded. “That’s the idea,” she said, grinning.

She felt good. The scarlet dress clung to all her curves, and she knew she looked sexy in it. It nipped in at her waist, flowed over her hips, skimmed her breasts. It had long sleeves, a demure aspect which somehow made the low dip in front seem more provocative. The bra gave her even more cleavage than she’d had in the shop fitting rooms. The contact lenses made her eyes look darker and she’d put on much more kohl than she normally wore.

Robin couldn’t stop staring. “Honestly, Ils, you look so different. Nick will be amazed.”

Ilsa nodded to her. “You look amazing yourself,” she said. “No wonder Corm was drooling over you.”

Robin grinned. She knew Strike liked her Venetia look, and she had reproduced it again carefully, pinning up her hair, spritzing the spicy perfume, wearing the high, glittery heels that almost raised her to his height. She was much taller than Ilsa even with the black heels her friend wore. The cigarettes were tucked in her bag alongside a couple of props that made even confident, outgoing Venetia blush a little. She was hoping Strike didn’t think she’d gone a step too far.

“Right, do you want to borrow the pashmina?” she asked.

Ilsa nodded. “Just till we get to the right pub,” she said. “I don’t think I want to walk the streets with so much of me on show.”

Robin smiled. “And you know the drill? We’re confident, sexy women picking up a couple of guys for a night of fun that they’ll never tell their other halves about. Fun and casual. Hold character. Cormoran tried to make me laugh a couple of times last time, but I got through it.”

“Oh, God, I’ll be hopeless,” Ilsa said, giggling already.

Robin gave her a mock stern look. “Stay in character,” she said. “It’s more fun.” She got her phone out again and opened the phone tracker.

“Ooh, looks like they’re on the move,” she said. “Let’s have our Prosecco and wait and see where they end up.”

Ilsa glanced at her watch. “It’s half past seven, they must be at the pub crawl stage of the evening,” she said.

Robin nodded. “I’d have thought so,” she said. “Let’s hope they don’t go too far, these heels aren’t fun to walk in. We might end up having to get a cab.”

They sipped their Prosecco and chatted while Robin periodically checked the tracker.

“They’ve stopped,” she said presently. “Looks like they’re in another bar about a quarter of a mile away.” She drained her glass and stood. “Let’s go, Caitlin,” she said with a wink.

Ilsa stood, wrapped the pashmina around her shoulders and chest, and grinned. “Let’s go and pick up some men!”

 

 


	3. Playing With The Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kenny Loggins! Showing my age now :D

Robin nudged Ilsa as they passed the pub windows. “There they are.”

They could see Nick and Strike sat at the bar, their backs to them, chatting. The girls went in at the door. The bar was long and segmented, divided into three main areas by arches. The large area to their right was filled with tables for diners. The main section in front of them where the men sat was for meeting and drinking. To their left lay a cafe-style area with tables and chairs and bookshelves, snug-like. The bar ran the length of the back wall, with staff able to move freely to serve in each section.

“What do we do?” Ilsa whispered. “Just walk up to them?”

Robin was eyeing two young women who were stood chatting just along the bar from Nick and Strike. “Look,” she murmured. One of the women nodded towards the men as she spoke, and her friend giggled.

Robin gave Ilsa a wicked grin. “Let’s watch for a bit,” she said, and drew her friend through the arch to their left into the snug. They sat, almost out of sight of the bar and still behind the men, and pretended to chat, but watched.

The women, one blonde and one brunette, had cocktails, and as Robin and Ilsa watched, they edged their way casually along the bar until they were closer to the men. Eventually the brunette one tapped Nick on the arm and asked him something. He frowned, glanced around, reached for the receptacle of straws in front of Strike on the bar. He passed it along, smiled politely and turned back to his conversation with Strike.

The brunette scowled and Ilsa giggled. “He’s oblivious,” she said warmly.

“So he should be,” Robin said, slightly more shortly than she had intended. The blonde had picked up her drink and was making her way around to Strike’s elbow. Robin felt a small tug of anxiety.

She needn’t have worried. Strike answered whatever question was aimed at him with considerably less politeness than Nick had, a single word answer and he turned back to the conversation. The blonde tossed her head, made eye contact with her friend, and they moved away to find other, more receptive targets. Robin breathed normally again.

Ilsa laid a hand on her arm. “You weren’t expecting anything else?” she asked gently.

Robin shrugged. “Well, you know,” she said. “I mean, we’re exclusive, but we’re not exactly engaged or anything. He doesn’t owe me loyalty.”

Ilsa smiled softly. “No, I think he’s giving it quite freely,” she said, and Robin flushed a little and nodded, feeling almost teary suddenly.

“Right,” she said briskly. “Time for Operation Venetia and Caitlin. You ready?”

Ilsa nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Let’s go for it.”

Robin grinned. “First step, subtly let them know we’re here,” she said. She moved towards the snug’s section of bar, out of sight now of the men in the main bar. Ilsa followed, tugging the pashmina more tightly around her shoulders.

They sat at the bar, putting on their characters. A little self-consciously, Ilsa slid her wedding ring off her finger and put it in her purse. She’d left her engagement ring at home. She sat up straighter, let her wrap slide down her shoulders a little. Robin was fully Venetia now. She signalled to the barman, who hurried to serve them.

“Wine?” Venetia asked. Caitlin nodded. Venetia turned her best smile on the young barman, who blushed. “Two white wines, please, Sauvignon blanc if you have it. And could we send two pints of your IPA to the gentlemen in the other bar?”

Caitlin giggled. “Good plan!”

Venetia smiled. “The two sat at the bar, one of them is a big man, black coat, curly hair. Just tell them the drinks are from Venetia and Caitlin, with our compliments.” The barman nodded and hurried away to fetch their glasses of wine.

When he returned, Venetia raised her glass and clinked it to Caitlin’s. “Let the fun commence!”

...

Two pints appeared in front of Strike and Nick as they chatted about yesterday’s match. Strike glanced up in surprise.

The barman winked at him. “These are from two ladies in the other bar,” he said. Nick’s eyebrows shot up.

“With their compliments,” the barman went on, grinning. “Venetia and Caitlin.” He indicated with his head towards the snug end of the bar.

Strike gave a snort. “Hah! Wow. Thanks.” The barman nodded and moved away. Strike grinned slyly at Nick, delight in his expression. “We’re in for a treat, mate. Take your wedding ring off.”

Nick stared at him, shocked. “What?”

Strike roared with laughter at the look on his friend’s face. “Don’t look like that, it’s all above board,” he assured him. “Let me explain. Long story short, this is a game Robin invented last year when I was away for a week, that job in Chester? I was stuck in a hotel on my own night after night and bored. I couldn’t get home at the weekend so she came up. But she wasn’t her, she was being Venetia Hall. I guess she, ah, picked up on how much I...appreciate the different characters she plays for work.” Strike grinned and Nick chuckled.

“Robin rang me to say goodnight, she was supposedly at home and going to bed, and then “Venetia”—” Strike found himself making air quotes that he normally detested “—turned up and seduced me in the hotel bar. Well, flirted in the bar and then came back to my room. I’m assuming Caitlin is Ilsa and she wants to play too.”

“Ah!” Nick grinned as realisation dawned. “Caitlin’s her middle name.”

Strike nodded. “Venetia is Robin’s.”

“Wait,” Nick said, catching up suddenly. “They’re here? Ilsa and Robin?”

“No, Venetia and Caitlin. But yes.”

Nick looked around. “So did you know they were doing this?”

Strike shook his head. “We’ve never mentioned it again,” he said. “She was gone in the morning and acted totally normally when I got back to London. As far as I was concerned, it was like I’d just had a one-night stand with Venetia.” He resisted the air quotes this time.

He could see Nick was beginning to understand. “So I assume,” Strike went on, “for the purposes of tonight, Robin and Ilsa are at home, doing whatever they said they were doing, and Venetia and Caitlin are here looking for a random hookup. We had a pretty spectacular time last time.” He trailed off dreamily, remembering. “She looked stunning, and we had a memorable night. I’ve thought about it a lot since. Dreamed about it too, a few times.” He winked. “Just go with it, mate.”

Nick grinned again, and pulled his wedding ring off and slid it into his pocket. “What do we do?”

“Wait and see,” Strike said. “It’s their game. Venetia found me last time, and she wasn’t backward in coming forward.” He glanced around. “Play it cool, they’ll find us.”

...

Venetia gave Caitlin a quick once-over. “Pashmina off now, or are you planning a big reveal at some point?”

“I don’t know, what do you think?”

“I think do it all at once, it’s all part of the look.”

Caitlin nodded, looking nervous and determined, and slipped the pashmina off and folded it, tucking it into her bag. She tugged a little at the dress again.

Venetia smiled at her gently. “Stop fretting,” she said. “You look gorgeous. Caitlin loves showing off her assets, remember? Chin up!” Her friend laughed.

“Right,” said Venetia, tossing her head, remembering her bold confidence. “Let’s make our move.”

They sashayed through to the other bar and approached the men. Venetia stepped up next to Strike. “Fancy seeing you here,” she said in her husky voice, and he jumped and turned. “Cormoran, wasn’t it?”

Strike stared at her for one startled moment, his gaze sweeping over her from head to toe, taking in the dress, the cleavage, the bag, the perfume. A wicked grin stole across his face. It was all she could do to hold character and gaze back at him coolly.

“Ms Hall,” Strike said, his deep voice rich with amusement and more than a hint of delight. His gaze flicked to her companion and his eyebrows shot up. This was new.

“May I introduce my friend Caitlin?” Robin said. Caitlin offered her hand, already trying not to giggle. Strike took it and brought it to his lips in an exaggerated show of chivalry. Caitlin coughed a little.

“Pleased to meet you, Caitlin,” Strike said. “This is my friend Nick.”

Robin nearly lost it when she saw the look on Nick’s face. He was staring at Caitlin in shock, his mouth slightly open, his eyes running quite shamelessly across her figure but returning again to her face as though trying to puzzle out what was so different. Caitlin blushed but held his gaze. “Pleased to meet you both.”

Strike looked back and forth from Caitlin to Nick in amusement, then slid his eyes back to Venetia. She looked every bit as stunning as he remembered, as she’d been in his dreams. Desire surged at once. “It’s good to see you again,” he murmured.

She smiled coolly. “You too,” she said, and to his surprise she moved around to stand next to Nick. Caitlin slid onto the stool next to Strike, giving him a dazzling smile.

“Shall we go and find somewhere more comfortable to sit?” Venetia asked Nick. His jaw dropped a little. Strike watched them through narrowed eyes for a moment, but Venetia flicked a cool gaze at him, a glance and a tilt of her chin that seemed to say in one haughty movement that she owed him nothing beyond the one night they had shared six months ago.

Strike shrugged slightly and turned back to Caitlin with an answering smile. Their eyes met and he frowned. He’d not had much reason to gaze into Ilsa’s eyes during their long years of friendship, but he knew her eyes were blue-green, not brown. This was impressive commitment to the cause.

Nick, who had been very much on board with this game two minutes ago, looked uncertainly at Caitlin and then back at Venetia. “Er, sure,” he managed, rallying. “I’d like that.”

Venetia smiled, her eyes flashing warm at him, and walked off, carrying her drink. Nick glanced at Strike with a small shrug and picked up his pint, following her through to the snug area. She’d selected a small table, and they sat. Behind them, Strike and Caitlin found a different table.

“What’s going on?” Nick murmured finally, leaning forward over his drink.

Robin grinned. “We’re not supposed to break character,” she said in a low voice, leaning in too. Her hand slid across the table to brush against his and Nick jumped slightly. “But this part was Ilsa’s idea. She thought it would be hot to see you flirt with someone else, remind you both of the first few times you met. But obviously she doesn’t want you really chatting someone up in a bar. So you get Venetia for the first part of the evening. I promise you Venetia’s only really interested in Cormoran - or perhaps in provoking a reaction from him.” And she winked.

Nick glanced across to where Caitlin was leaning across her table to whisper something to Strike, and swallowed hard at the sight of that glorious cleavage, the way the soft scarlet material clung to her breasts. He’d never seen his wife dress like that. He longed to whisk her off to his room and examine the dress properly.

An elegantly manicured finger touched his chin and brought his gaze back round to Venetia. “It’s impolite to ogle other women when you’re chatting someone up,” she said, amused, and Nick flushed. “Sorry.”

 _Right, chatting someone up. You can remember how to do this,_ Nick told himself, wondering vaguely how long it had been since he had. Almost fifteen years. He glanced down at his pint, then looked back up, taking in the gorgeous hair and berry-coloured lips curving into a smile for him. He grinned at her, hazel eyes twinkling. “So, Venetia, are you here on business or pleasure?”

She sat back a little, her eyes running over him, over his clean-shaven jaw, his warm hazel eyes, his shirt collar, his lean hands and slender fingers. “I don’t know yet,” she said huskily, amused at the way he flushed slightly just as Strike had six months ago when she’d used the same line on him. He rallied well again, though, giving her the tiniest of cheeky sideways looks. “Let’s hope Cormoran and I can influence that in some way,” he said, and she smiled, lips curving seductively.

“So what gives?” Strike asked Caitlin. “You and me for the evening, is it?”

She blushed a little but held her ground. “For now,” she said, grinning at him. “You might have to make a play for Venetia if you want her.”

Strike mulled this over. This was clearly part of this evening’s game. Playing along was probably his best option. He leaned in and winked. “So, Caitlin. Do you come here often?”

She smiled. “Not this particular bar, no,” she said. “But Venetia and I decided to have a little fun this evening.”

Strike looked amused. “Is that so?” He glanced across to where Venetia and Nick were chatting at their table, and his eyebrow quirked a little. Nick was chatting away, giving her his undivided attention, watching her in a way Strike hadn’t seen him focus on a woman since their bachelor days. Strike found himself scowling slightly as he pulled his gaze back to Caitlin. “They seem to be hitting it off.”

“They do,” Caitlin didn’t seem to mind, watching the other two dreamily for a moment, then glancing back at him. “So, do you live locally, or...?”

Strike grinned. “You’re a bit rusty at this!” he teased, and she laughed. He smiled fondly. “You look incredible, though. Nice dress. I can’t quite work out where to put my eyes!”

Caitlin laughed. “That doesn’t seem to be a problem Nick had when he saw me,” she said, looking pleased. Strike laughed.

Venetia was enjoying her evening so far. A small part of Robin in the back of her mind was impressed at seeing this handsome, confident side of a man who had only ever been gently friendly towards her. Venetia was quite enjoying herself, gazing into his hazel eyes and flirting, enjoying his big grin and laughing at his jokes. He was easy company, and his focus made the rest of the room fade into the background.

Strike was glaring at his companion now in mock annoyance. “Jesus, Ilsa,” he grumbled good-naturedly. “It’s not like I _want_ my smoulder to work on you. But do you have to laugh quite so hard?” He was trying to do as good a job as Nick of playing along, but was finding his audience harder work. She had almost spat her wine out when he gave her his best sexy look.

Ilsa struggled to get hold of her giggles. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Oh, don’t look like that, I really am. I’ll try harder, don’t look so bruised-ego about it.”

“Well, stay in character, then. I can’t use my best moves on Ilsa, that’s too weird. Just make up your mind, are you Ilsa or Caitlin?”

She winked. “I didn’t think this bit through. And I’m Caitlin, remember? Don’t let Venetia see me breaking character, I’ll get in trouble. She’s quite...bossy.”

Strike grinned. “Tell me about it,” he said wickedly.

Caitlin’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, is that what she wasn’t telling me?” she wondered. “She did say she was pretty sure you’d enjoyed her company last time.”

“She was right,” Strike said warmly, casting his eyes back to the other table.

“Ooh, look at Nick,” Caitlin said dreamily. “He’s doing a spectacular job of flirting with Venetia. She looks impressed.”

Strike scowled again. “Yeah. I noticed.”

Caitlin cast her eyes back to him, amused. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t hurt him.” She winked. “I need him intact for what I have planned.”

Strike laughed and finished his pint. “I think it’s time to move on to the next bar. Might need somewhere a bit more upmarket if we want to impress you two.”

...

“Upmarket? That’s what he said?” Venetia murmured as they strolled along the pavement in front of the men. “Swing your hips, remember, they’re looking at our arses.”

Caitlin giggled. “That is what he said.” She was fully aware of the heat of Nick’s gaze on her.

“Hmmm. I was hoping we could play pool,” Venetia said.

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. Good seduction tool, pool. Lots of leaning over tables and stroking cues.”

Caitlin snorted. “Sounds perfect!”

“So this is fun,” Nick muttered, admiring the way the red dress clung to Caitlin’s bottom. He marvelled at how she managed to look even curvier than usual. It was definitely doing things for him. He wondered how long he was going to have to flirt with Venetia before he could get his hands, metaphorically and literally, on her friend.

Strike chucked, watching the swing of Venetia’s hips, remembering following her across the hotel bar in Chester. He wondered if she was planning on smoking this evening. He lit a cigarette of his own as they walked. “It is indeed. You and Venetia seem to be getting on well.”

Nick glanced at him sideways. “I’m just going with the flow, like you said,” he replied. “I like this game. They look so different. Christ, did you see Ilsa’s...dress?”

Strike laughed. “I was trying very hard not to, but she’s quite...out there! And it’s Caitlin, remember? We don’t know these women, apart from the one night I spent with Venetia.”

Nick chuckled, his eyes returning to Caitlin’s curves. This was turning into an interesting evening.

 


	4. I Want That Man

The girls queued at the bar for drinks while the men went to bag a table for pool and set the game up.

Caitlin gave Venetia a sly grin. “It’s working,” she said. “Nick looks dreamy flirting with you, and Cormoran is getting just a tiny bit huffy, although he’s pretending he doesn’t mind at all.”

Venetia laughed. “Success all round, then! How’s it going with Cormoran?”

Ilsa giggled. “It’s not, really,” she said. “It’s so, so awkward trying to flirt with someone you don’t fancy. Might have to give up and just chat. He’s only got eyes for you, anyway.”

“That’s why the girls are on display!” Venetia grinned, pulling her shoulders back a little more, and then glaring over Caitlin’s shoulder at a guy ogling her breasts from along the bar.

They carried the drinks across to the pool area. The men had placed a few coins on the side of the table and were waiting for it to become free. The game before them was almost finished.

“I’m going out for a smoke while we wait,” Strike announced. He cast a glance at Venetia. “Will you join me?”

She gave him a cheeky smile. “Of course,” she said, getting her packet out of her bag. Nick’s eyebrows raised in surprise but he was well enough immersed in the game not to say anything. He grinned at Caitlin. “Looks like you’re stuck with me for a few minutes, then,” he murmured as Strike and Venetia headed for the door.

She smiled back at him. “I guess I can cope with that,” she replied softly.

Nick gazed into her eyes, suddenly twigging for the first time what was so different about her, now that Venetia wasn’t monopolising his attention. Not only were her glasses gone, her eyes were brown. Her perfume was different, too. She was so familiar, yet just different enough to cause a sudden surge of desire through him. The dress definitely helped. He stepped closer, his eyes dropping shamelessly to her chest, his hand sliding into hers. “I hope I get the chance to chat to you a bit later,” he said huskily.

She gave him a lazy smile. “Maybe, if you play your cards right,” she replied.

Strike held the door for Venetia to precede him out to the beer garden. The evening was cooler now, and she shivered a little in the breeze. She wished she’d thought to reclaim her wrap from Caitlin.

Strike took his coat off and held it for her. Smiling gently, she slid her arms into the sleeves. “Thank you,” she said softly. It smelled of him, musky and a little smoky, and was warm from his body heat. She shivered again as she drew it closer around her, but not from the cold this time.

She drew one of her cigarettes from the packet, and Strike lit it for her. He was reminded vividly of the evening in Chester, how amazed he’d been at the sight of her smoking, how sexy she had looked, how the whole evening had so totally taken him by surprise. And now here she was again, confident and attractive, making him feel slightly wrong-footed the whole time. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to flirt with her yet, or if he was still supposed to be playing along with the idea of her making a move on Nick. He lit his own cigarette and took a long drag, wondering what to say.

Venetia sipped her wine and regarded him archly. “You’re quiet tonight.”

Strike grinned a little self-consciously. “I’m not quite sure how to be,” he admitted.

She smiled at that, a little triumphant but not so much as to be annoying. “Good,” she said, a little husky again. “I think we both prefer it when I’m in control of things.” She quirked her eyebrow just a little, glancing at him sideways, and the combination of her look and meaning sent an electric shock of arousal through him.

He stepped closer, desire rising, his eyes on her lips, but she raised her head and stepped back. Her chin tilted challengingly at him.

“Hold that thought, mister,” she said. “I’ve not finished with your friend yet. You’ll get your turn. If you’re good.” She gave him an outrageous wink, and Strike couldn’t decide whether he was more aroused or amused. She was very, very good at this game. He acquiesced and moved away again, took another drag of his own cigarette.

The pool table came free and Nick set up the balls just as Strike and Venetia returned. Venetia slipped Strike’s coat off and handed it back to him. “Thanks,” she murmured, allowing her hand to brush over his. He jumped slightly at her touch and she dropped her chin a little to hide a smile.

“Teams?” Nick asked, picking up a cue. Venetia moved across to him. “Us against them?” she suggested, and Nick grinned at her, giving away no hint of his slight disappointment. He’d hoped to be partnered with Caitlin.

He soon realised the purpose of the arrangement though, as he found himself mostly facing Caitlin across the table with Venetia next to him. He could carry on the pretence of flirting with his teammate whilst enjoying a largely uninterrupted view of Caitlin in that dress, which despite clinging in all the right places seemed to threaten to allow her to spill out every time she leaned across the table. He caught a glimpse of black lace, and had to drag his attention hurriedly back to Venetia before his appreciation of Caitlin’s assets became evident to the rest of the room.

Strike was having a similar issue watching Venetia shamelessly stroke her hand up and down the pool cue while she waited for her turn, an action that seemed almost unconscious but that he was sure was deliberate. His suspicion was confirmed when she winked at him when she saw him notice, making him blush. _Get a grip,_ he told himself, amused at his own reaction. He and Robin were so comfortable together these days, but there was something about Venetia that threw him off balance. He never knew what she was going to do or say next. It was very sexy.

Caitlin stood back from the game and Venetia stepped up. She concentrated on the table, focusing on each ball in turn. None of them looked potable. She glanced at Nick, who hurriedly dragged his eyes from where they had wandered across to Caitlin again and focused.

“What about that one? It’s almost over the pocket.”

Venetia raised an eyebrow. “I’d have to practically lie on the table to reach that. That’s not happening in this dress!” She winked at him. “Cormoran’s jaw might actually hit the floor if I did that.”

Nick chuckled. “Be a good distraction, though,” he said. “Let me take it. It’s a good angle for me, I’m left-handed.”

“Are you? Huh, I never noticed.”

Nick grinned his handsome grin at her. “Maybe because you only just met me tonight?” he teased, and she laughed. “Touché.”

Venetia turned her focus back to the table. “It’s not your turn, though.”

“I’m sure you can distract Cormoran enough that he won’t notice.” Nick said cheekily, and Venetia smiled. He really is quite handsome, she found herself thinking. I never noticed before. Lucky Ilsa. Or rather Caitlin, tonight.

She moved around the table, drawing Cormoran’s gaze, and stepped up to him. “Let’s go for another smoke after this,” she murmured. “I might even let you wear your own jacket this time.”

Strike grinned at her. “I see what you’re doing, Ms Hall,” he said. “Attempting to create a diversion so your partner can play that shot. Didn’t fancy taking it on?”

She laughed a little. “I don’t think my dress would have coped,” she said. “Or rather, the bra underneath.”

Strike ran his eyes over her body. “Is it the same bra you wore last time?” he asked, wondering if he could catch sight of it.

Venetia leaned in close, providing him with a full view of her ample cleavage. “It might be. It might not be. Maybe I’ll let you check later.”

Strike swallowed hard. “I’d like that,” he said a little hoarsely. He pulled his gaze away from her reluctantly to see that Nick had potted the ball in question and moved on to the next. He glanced back at Venetia, amused. “I shall declare this result null and void if you win, due to cheating,” he declared.

“Cheating? Not my fault you can’t concentrate on one game of pool.”

He grinned wickedly at her. “It’s a hundred percent your fault I can’t concentrate on one game of pool.”

...

The game finished, the couples moved to the seating area to finish their drinks. To Venetia’s surprise, Nick drew her aside to sit with him. She was beginning to think it was time to hand him over to Caitlin and take her flirting with Strike on a step, but it seemed Nick had other ideas.

They sat, and Nick leaned in again, lowering his voice a little. “So, Venetia, I gather this game...carries on? After the end of the evening?”

Venetia quirked an eyebrow at him, amused. “I thought you men didn’t discuss such stuff. Or so you keep telling us.”

“We didn’t really. Oggy just said he’d had a few...pleasant dreams about last time,” Nick grinned.

Venetia’s eyebrows climbed her forehead. “Is that so? Perhaps I’d better up the ante, then.”

Nick smiled. “And, er, is this information you’ve passed to Caitlin?”

Venetia laughed, understanding suddenly. “It might have been discussed. Any requests?” She peeped at him through her eyelashes and was amused when he flushed and stuttered a little.

“Er, well...”

Venetia regarded him coolly. “You can tell me and I’ll arrange it, or you can ask Caitlin yourself.”

There was a pause while Nick hesitated and wrestled with his thoughts. Venetia watched his dilemma, amused again.

“This is a one-night thing, remember. Never to be mentioned again.”

“Er...”

She took pity on him. “Would it happen to relate to, say, an imbalance of power? One of you taking control of things?”

Nick coughed and looked at her, startled. “Did she say something?”

“She might have mentioned that she quite liked the idea of you being...masterful, shall we say.” Venetia chuckled, and then grinned wickedly as Nick’s eyes darkened with excitement. “Looks like you’re already on the same page. I’ll let her know.”

Nick took a shuddering breath and glanced over to where Caitlin sat idly sipping her drink, making conversation with Strike. He suddenly really, really liked this game. His eyes were dragged down to her chest again, and he found himself imagining touching her, burying his face in that cleavage, his hands...

Venetia cleared her throat and he jumped a little and flushed. She grinned at him. “I think it might be time to move this evening to the next level,” she said, and Nick nodded, in total agreement.

 


	5. Shut Up And Dance

Strike had decided it was time to suggest that they all started to head back towards the hotel. He was keen to move the evening along to the point where he could spend some time with Venetia, and was trying to work out if there was a polite way he could get rid of Nick and Caitlin. Perhaps he could suggest he and Venetia took a nightcap back to the room, as they had in Chester.

This thought led him to realise a fatal flaw in tonight’s plans. He sighed. He needed to talk to Nick.

Before he could think of finding a way to get Nick on his own - _if we were women we would just disappear to the loo together,_ he thought - the lights suddenly dimmed and a DJ in the far corner of the huge pub put the first song on, talking over the introduction to welcome everyone to the dance part of the evening. Strike was about to use this as an excuse to suggest they leave when he realised Nick had asked Venetia to dance and was whisking her off to the dance floor, which was rapidly filling. Clearly the locals had all been expecting the music.

Strike sighed a little. Caitlin looked at him. “You okay?”

He shrugged. “Not my thing, dancing.”

She patted his knee and he grinned at her. He wondered idly if other people watching them saw a potential couple, a hand on his knee as an invitation, when all they felt was friendship. “It’s okay,” she said cheerfully. “I’m happy chatting. I’ll go and cut in in a bit, steal him off her.”

“Good plan.” Strike was trying not to notice how well Nick moved to the music, how close he was holding Venetia as they turned. He wasn’t normally given to insecurity, but this was one area where he could no longer compete.

He turned to give Caitlin his full attention. “Would you like another drink?”

She glanced down at her glass. “I think I’m okay, thanks,” she said. “Don’t want to have too much. I’d like to, er, keep a clear head this evening.” She winked at him, and Strike laughed. “You’re right, I probably should do too,” he agreed.

The music changed, slid into a slower number, and Strike found himself scowling again at Nick and Venetia on the dance floor. She was resting her head on his shoulder, and his arm curved around her, his hand in the small of her back. Strike glared. “That bloody hand had better not move any lower,” he said crossly, and Caitlin laughed.

“You know they’re doing it just as much to wind you up as to let me see Nick flirt,” she said warmly.

“I know. Still.” Strike knew he was being unreasonable. Within the bounds of the game, Venetia wasn’t his to stake a claim on. And outside the game, Nick had eyes for no one but his wife, and Strike had no reason to doubt Robin’s feelings. Yet seeing them sway to the music, moulded together, set his teeth on edge.

On the dance floor, Nick murmured in Venetia’s ear. “I think we might have made our point, lovely though this evening has been. I’d quite like to spend some time with Caitlin if you don’t mind, and Oggy is currently looking at me like he’d quite happily thump me one.”

Venetia raised her head. She’d allowed herself to drift for a moment, tired. “He surely can’t really think there’s anything between us? Sorry if I’m too close, just came over a bit sleepy. It’s hot in here.”

Nick smiled down at her. “I’m sure he doesn’t, really,” he said. “I really would like to dance with Caitlin, though.”

“We’ll stop at the end of this song,” Venetia promised. She looked across to where Strike and Caitlin sat. Strike was watching them impassively. She gave him a smile and a wink, saw his reluctant grin. She wrinkled her nose at him, trying to convey with a look that she’d rather be in his arms, and he smiled softly across at her.

The song ended and they broke apart and headed back towards their friends. Venetia nodded to Caitlin. “Popping to the loo,” she said.

“Me too.” Caitlin jumped up to follow.

Nick dropped into her vacated seat next to Strike. “You okay?”

Strike grunted. “Yeah,” he said, grinning. Venetia’s cheeky look had banished his bad mood.

Nick grinned back. “Mind if we, er, swap ladies now?” he asked slyly. “I quite fancy Caitlin, and I think Venetia is more your type.”

Strike nodded. “There is just one big problem with our plans tonight,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“We’re sharing a room, remember?”

Nick gave him a look of comical dismay. “Fuck, so we are.”

“That was your bloody idea,” Strike grumbled. “Make it feel more like a boys’ weekend, you said. Like when we used to go boozing in Brussels or Paris, you said.”

Nick groaned. “I know. I wasn’t planning on picking up women, though!”

Strike laughed. “I know,” he agreed. “At least if either of us pulled on those trips, we could go back to her place. Not an option here. Well, we’ll have to fall back on the age-old solution.”

Nick looked at him. “What’s that?”

“Rock, paper, scissors for who gets the room first.” Strike winked.

Nick roared with laughter. “What are we, twenty? What’s the loser supposed to do with his date?”

“Well, it’s only for...a spell of time to be agreed,” Strike said. “We can all actually sleep in there, I’m sure.”

Nick snorted. “Bog off,” he said. “We’re grown-ups now. I’m booking another room. And you’re paying half, seeing as you’ll get just as much benefit.”

“What if the hotel’s fully booked?”

“There’ll be somewhere with a room. I am not wasting this chance to spend the night with a really rather stunning woman having to keep my hands to myself because you and Ro— Venetia are in the next bed.”

“But just in case you can’t get one...”

Nick glared at him.

In the ladies, the girls washed their hands and stood in front of the mirror to freshen up their make up.

“So, Caitlin,” Venetia began. “You know what you said on the train?”

“God, that was hours ago. What did I say on the train?” Caitlin applied more lipstick.

“You know, about—” Venetia glanced around, wondering if anyone else was in one of the cubicles. “About hoping Nick might, er...”

Caitlin flushed pink. “I remember.”

Venetia grinned at her in the mirror. “You’re good to go.”

Caitlin turned to face her friend, her eyes wide with shock. “You _told_ him?” She was red now.

“Put your hackles down. No, not exactly. He said Cormoran had let something slip about...dreaming about Chester—” it was Venetia’s turn to blush “—and he asked if we had discussed anything, and I offered to pass on any requests he had.”

Caitlin’s eyes grew even wider. “And he asked for...that?”

Venetia nodded, and then laughed at the excitement and delight in her friend’s eyes. “Yup, that was the look he had, too.”

Caitlin squealed and clapped her hands. “Right, that’s it,” she said. “We’re swapping back.”

Venetia nodded. “Fine with me,” she said. “I have plans of my own.”

“Oh, yeah? Care to share them?”

Venetia blushed redder. “Er, not really,” she said. “Let a girl have some secrets.”

Caitlin laughed, nodding. “Let’s go.”

Nick was just scowling at having lost at rock, paper, scissors when he saw the girls approaching. Strike grinned at him.

“Text me if you don’t find another room,” he said slyly.

“Fuck off,” Nick replied amiably as the girls arrived.

Venetia arched her eyebrows at Strike. “Rock, paper, scissors? That had better not have been some macho ‘who gets which woman’ thing,” she said sternly. “That’s the kind of behaviour that ends with you both sleeping alone.”

Caitlin nodded vigorously next to her. “What are you, fifteen?”

Strike laughed his big laugh. “We’re sharing a room,” he said. “We were just deciding who gets first dibs. I won.”

“Which makes no difference, because I’m booking another room,” Nick insisted.

Venetia and Caitlin both started laughing, and the men stared at them. “What?” they demanded simultaneously.

“We have a room,” Caitlin said. “In case we couldn’t find you.”

Venetia looked stern again. “Or in case one or both of us didn’t fancy you enough to follow through,” she added. “Like, if you start behaving like teenagers.”

“Yes. Or start assuming that you’re both on a promise,” Caitlin finished.

Nick looked from one to the other and laughed. “That’s us put in our place,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “Caitlin, would you like to dance with me?”

She smiled softly at him. “I’d love to.”

Nick stood, took her hand and led her off towards the dance floor. Venetia sat. It was so tempting to break character and tease Strike about this evening, but she had plans that only Venetia could carry through. She leaned close to him.

“So, you won the room?” She winked.

“I did indeed,” he said, giving her his best smoulder, gratified when she widened her eyes and gave a little shiver, rather than laughing like Caitlin had done. He leaned forward and kissed her, taking her by surprise. “Would you like to see it? We could, er, take a nightcap up with us like last time.”

Venetia blushed, a little off balance suddenly. This wouldn’t do. She needed to be in control of proceedings. She gave herself a mental shake, squaring her shoulders.

“That sounds like an excellent plan,” she said. “Let me tell you what I’ve got in my bag.” She leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

Strike drew back, his eyes dark, glittering at her. “Fuuuck...” he breathed.

He stood and pulled her to her feet. “We’re going.”

 


	6. Ho Hey

Venetia waved to Caitlin, who broke free of Nick for a moment to hurry across. “You going?”

Venetia nodded, blushing a little. “Yeah,” she said. “Cormoran’s quite, er, keen.”

Caitlin giggled. “I bet he is.”

Nick appeared behind her, sliding an arm around her, unwilling to let her go now he had her. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“We’re going,” Strike said impatiently. Nick gave him a wicked grin. “Good plan,” he said. “We’ll wander back with you.”

Strike glared at him. “No need.”

Caitlin giggled, on board with teasing Strike a little. “It’s no bother,” she said cheerfully, getting her wrap out of her bag and pulling it round her shoulders. Venetia rolled her eyes and laughed. “Come on, then.”

They left the bar and strolled back towards the hotel. Venetia walked next to Strike, vividly aware of the tension radiating from him. “I’ll get rid of them, don’t worry,” she murmured.

He cast her a sideways glance. “I know,” he said, grinning. “Or I’ll just whisk you off upstairs.” He held her gaze for a moment, letting her see the heat in his, and a shiver ran through her.

Caitlin tucked her arm into Nick’s. “I was quite enjoying dancing,” she said.

“I know, me too.” He smiled down at her fondly. “I’m only winding Oggy up a bit because he was winding me up about the room. We can go for a nightcap or something.”

Caitlin nodded. “I’d like that. I want to make the most of this evening. It’s...magical.”

Nick gazed down at her. The exact word Ilsa had used about the night they met twenty years ago. He squeezed her arm against his side.

He glanced up. “Or...how about here? Hey, guys!”

Strike and Venetia stopped and turned. “What?”

“Let’s go in here.” Nick indicated the bar they had paused outside of.

Strike looked up at the sign. “Absolutely not,” he said firmly. “Let’s go.”

Nick roared with laughter. “You sure we can’t tempt you?”

Strike scowled at him darkly. “Sod off,” he said. “Come on, Venetia.”

Caitlin giggled and waved. “Bye,” she said. “Oh, Venetia, just so we’re clear - I’m in our room, right?”

Venetia nodded. “And we’re in theirs,” she said. “Please don’t get confused later.”

“The door will be locked,” Strike said darkly, and Caitlin giggled. Strike and Venetia turned away and left, and Nick and Caitlin ducked in through the door of the bar.

“What’s going on?” Venetia asked, amused.

“It’s a Nick and Ilsa thing,” Strike said, forgetting the game for a moment. “Karaoke. They’ll be hours. It’s tedious.” He remembered himself. “Sorry. It’s a Nick thing that I’m sure he has some inner sense that Caitlin will love.”

Venetia laughed. “It’s not really my bag.”

“Me neither.”

“I have much better plans for us anyway.”

“I know.” He cast her a sideways glance that was pure heat, and she shivered again.

...

“Where shall we start?” Nick asked, scrolling through the song menu.

Caitlin slid her arm around him, squeezing him to her. “Surprise me,” she said. “I’ll get us some drinks.”

He looked down at her fondly, and she was sure he was about to kiss her, but she remembered her role and ducked away with a cheeky smile. _Would Caitlin snog him this soon in the evening?_ she wondered. _I think she’d make him wait a bit, especially seeing as he’s been flirting with someone else all evening._

The queue at the bar took a while, and by the time she got back to the booth he’d nabbed, Nick had set up his first song.

The music started and she clapped her hands, delighted. “Ho Hey!” she cried. “I love this one.” And she tapped her foot and listened, and idly pondered which duet they could sing afterwards.

...

Strike and Venetia slid onto stools at the hotel bar. It was relatively quiet now, a few hushed conversations. Strike was transported back to their might in Chester suddenly, as she sat on the stool next to him, her dress riding up to reveal a glimpse of her thigh, ordering Scotch for them both. His stomach tightened in anticipation and his breathing quickened.

Their drinks arrived and she slid a room card across to charge them to the bill. Then she looked at him, winked, picked up her drink and walked away.

Strike swallowed hard, picked up his whisky and followed her, just as he’d followed her six months ago. He would still follow her anywhere. She made her way unerringly to the patio at the rear of the hotel where smoking was permitted. She’d clearly planned ahead, checking the layout of the hotel. He was impressed, and more than a little aroused at the thought that this was once again a planned seduction, something she’d been thinking about and preparing for.

They stepped out onto the patio, found a table, lit their cigarettes. Venetia smoked hers and regarded him coolly again. “Deja vu,” she said huskily.

Strike nodded, speechless suddenly, his mind full of the images conjured up by Venetia’s whisper in his ear in the bar.

He cleared his throat. “So, er, you have things all planned out?”

“Down to the smallest detail. I’m assuming you’re on board?”

Strike nodded.

“That’s brave, seeing as you don’t know what I have planned yet.”

“I know enough. And I trust you.”

Venetia smiled and took another drag on her cigarette. “Good answer.”

...

“Dance with me?” Caitlin asked softly, and Nick smiled. “Always.”

They moved to the dance floor and he pulled her into his arms. She laid her head against his shoulder, moulding her curves to his. Nick remembered his conversation with Venetia, and a shudder of desire ran through him at the prospect of taking Caitlin back to her room.

He dropped his head over hers, kissing her temple gently. “What does a guy have to do to get invited back to your room?” he murmured huskily.

She pressed closer, deliberately pushing her breasts against him. “Singing to me and dancing with me is doing the trick,” she replied. Nick wrapped his arms around her tighter, moving his lips to her cheek, slowly kissing his way down to her mouth. He kissed her gently, chastely.

“Nightcap back at the hotel?” he asked. She nodded.

...

Venetia stubbed out her cigarette and took another sip of her whisky. She watched Strike finish his cigarette, her eyes roving over him.

She stepped up to him, her glass in her hand, slid her arm around him and kissed him. They kissed for long minutes in the cool night air, and she felt him shudder against her, his arousal becoming evident.

She drew back. “Let’s go to your room,” she said huskily. Strike nodded, his eyes hooded dark, and followed her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next two chapters are the promised smut. And one is pretty smutty, more than usually out there for me. Anyone who would prefer to dot dot dot, skip on ahead to chapter 9. :)


	7. Lay Your Hands On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUT ALERT - if you’d like to swerve around this and leave them at the door, proceed to chapter 9. :)

Venetia clicked the door of the room closed and slid the privacy catch into place. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and turned to Strike. He had stopped in the middle of the room and was watching her intently, his dark eyes glittering.

For a moment Venetia wondered if she had the courage to carry her plan through. But then she remembered the look on his face when she’d told him about the ties.

She removed them from her bag, dropped the bag onto the dresser and held them up for him to see. “So the deal with these,” she said huskily “is that they’re only made of gauze. You’ll be tied, but you’ll be able to break them.”

She stepped up to him, winding the restraints slowly around her hands. Strike was watching her movements, mesmerised.

“You have to lie still and stay tied up for the game to continue,” she said. “Think you can do that?”

Strike swallowed hard and nodded, his gaze fixed on her hands and the gauze wrapped around them. Venetia had another moment of doubt - what if he hated the idea and was only playing along for her? - and then she caught sight of the straining front of his trousers. A small smile crept across her face. She stepped back.

“Get undressed,” she ordered.

His eyes raised to hers then, a little shocked. “Don’t I even get a snog first?”

“Nope. No touching,” she said. “You’ve been flirting with someone else all evening, remember? I’m not pleased. You’re going to have to wait.”

Strike shuddered and started to remove his clothes. She stood back and watched him. A blush stole across his cheeks as she gazed openly at him while he undressed. He couldn’t work out if he was more aroused or embarrassed under the intensity of her gaze. Or how he had enough blood left in his face to blush.

He dropped his clothes as he removed them until he was down to just his trousers. He hesitated. “I’m going to have to sit down to sort my leg out,” he said.

Venetia nodded, her eyes raking across his chest and shoulders. “On the bed,” she instructed.

Strike moved towards the bed and pushed his trousers and boxers down. His erection sprang free, hard and ready for her, and Venetia shivered a little. Making him wait was going to be tortuous for her, too.

Strike sat on the end of the bed and finished removing his clothes and prosthetic. Venetia nodded. “Lie with your head on the pillows,” she said. Strike obeyed, and she moved around to one side of the bed, elegant in her glittering heels, her full evening dress a stark contrast to his nakedness. She reached across, bending towards him, allowing him full view of her cleavage as she took his wrist in her hand. Her eyes met his, and for a moment she found herself searching for vulnerability, wanting to check again that he was okay with her game, but all she saw from him was heat. He was watching her closely, his eyes dark, but following her instructions obediently.

She tied his wrist to the bedpost, scraping her nails across the sensitive skin of his palm as she did so, making him shiver. She marched around the bed to tie his other wrist, and then stood back, satisfied. “Comfortable?”

Strike wondered whether aching with arousal and longing for her to touch him constituted “comfortable”, but nodded.

“Good.” Venetia reached behind herself for the zip on her dress, wriggling to slide it down. She pushed the dress down and stepped out of it. Strike groaned at the sight of her in her underwear. Her bra was a deep blue silk, cupping her breasts and pushing them up to create the cleavage he had admired all evening. She wore matching blue silk French knickers, skimming her hips and floating across her bottom as she turned away from him. She bent to undo her shoes, and the curves of her arse peeked out at him from under the shimmering silk.

Venetia stepped out of her shoes and stood and looked at him. “Enjoying the game so far?”

“God, yes,” Strike’s voice was hoarse.

“Good,” she said again, and turned and walked away.

Nonplussed, Strike watched as she disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door.

There was a long pause. Venetia counted slowly to twenty in her head in the bathroom, and then counted again. _Make him wait. Keep him guessing._

She turned the shower on, and opened the curtain. She slipped her underwear off and tossed it aside. She had planned this carefully, subtly checking all the angles while Ilsa was reading a magazine, hoping against hope that all the rooms in the hotel were arranged the same way. They were.

She opened the bathroom door again, and smiled seductively at Strike in the mirror, enjoying his groan at the sight of her naked. Then she stepped into the shower and proceeded to utterly ignore him.

Venetia kept her head free of the water, wanting to preserve her hair and makeup, angling the shower head so that the water cascaded across her body, running in rivulets down over her shoulders and between her breasts, down the curve of her back. She picked up the shower gel, a floral one similar enough to one Robin used, that Strike liked, but different, chosen especially for this job. She squeezed a generous amount into her hand, lathered it up and washed her arms and her belly, enjoying the floral smell, massaging the soap into her skin and allowing the water to wash it away. She ignored Strike, but she could feel the heat of his gaze on her in the mirror.

She took some more shower gel, lathered it in her hands and began to wash her breasts, her eyes drifting closed as she soaped herself. She cupped their weight, circled each one with her hands, running the lather across herself, massaging it into each breast. A flush of pleasure crept across her chest and neck as she touched herself, and her nipples hardened. She stroked her fingers across them, sighing a little, her lips parting, and then she opened her eyes and met Strike’s gaze in the mirror.

She couldn’t hear him over the rush of the water, but she could see the effect she was having on him. His chest heaved as he panted a little, his cock straining and engorged, but he was still tied. She smiled her approval and closed her eyes again. Her hand drifted down across her belly and on down.

She allowed her fingers to toy with her curls, playing with the lather that was sliding down from her breasts, tantalising him. Then she moved her hands away, took more shower gel and washed her legs, bending to run the soap along the length of each one, her breasts dipping forward.

She stood again, smiled at Strike in the mirror and switched off the shower. She reached for a towel, wrapped herself and stepped out.

She moved through to the bedroom, the towel slung loosely around her. “You’re still tied, well done,” she nodded her approval. Strike moaned a little. “Only just,” he rasped.

“Patience,” she said. “I’m not nearly done with you yet.” His cock twitched at her words. She turned away from him and removed the towel and slowly dried herself with it, running the soft fluffy cotton across her body, over her breasts, along her arms, down her legs. Strike watched, his eyes black with desire, roving over her flushed skin, the dip of her back, the curve of her hips and bottom, following every move.

Turning back to face him, she bunched the towel up in her hand and dried between her legs, slowly running the towel back and forth across herself. She watched him watching her, her eyes on his. She widened her stance for better access, and moaned a little in pleasure as the cotton rubbed across her, across her lips and up to her clit.

Strike groaned as she massaged the towel into herself in gentle circles, her face suffused with pleasure, her eyes on his. She rubbed slow circles around her clit, panting a little, her head dropping back slightly and her hips starting to rock.

“Fucking hell, Venetia,” Strike moaned, his eyes boring into hers and flicking down to the towel in her hand as she gently pleasured herself, then back up to her face to watch her enjoyment. He writhed a little on the bed, but stayed tied.

Venetia hadn’t intended to take the game this far, but his fiercely heated gaze on her, his desperate arousal, drove her on. She hadn’t expected to be so aroused herself by what she’d planned, but found herself rubbing a little harder with the towel, massaging her clit, circling, moaning under her breath now. Strike groaned and arched against the restraints, but still didn’t break them.

She locked her eyes onto his, her pleasure building, and then deliberately ran her gaze down his body to his straining erection, leaking a little with his arousal. It pulsed as she gazed at it, and suddenly she found herself tipping over the edge, a soft grunt escaping her as a gentle orgasm rippled through her.

Strike swore, a string of expletives erupting from him as he bucked his hips, watching her come undone in front of him, but somehow he held still enough not to break the ties. Venetia was impressed at his self-control.

Panting, she lowered the towel, hoping the flush of her arousal hid her slight embarrassment. She hadn’t intended to go quite so far, but clearly seeing her getting carried away was having the desired effect on Strike. She smiled at him, sated for now, licking her lips a little.

“God, Venetia, that’s so fucking sexy,” Strike groaned. “I want to touch you.” His hands flexed, tied to the bedposts.

Venetia nodded. “Soon,” she promised. She dropped the towel and slid her feet back into the glittery heels and stood, wearing nothing but them, and he moaned again at the sight of her, almost six feet tall, flushed from the shower and her arousal, her peachy skin glowing, inviting him to touch and stroke. Smiling, she moved around to the side of the bed, and he watched her every move with dark intensity.

Venetia sat on the bed and bent to do up the heels, her bottom close to his hip but not touching. He could feel the heat radiating from her and tried to slide his hips across to hers, but she stood again.

“I can smell you,” he said hoarsely.

Venetia arched an eyebrow, smiling seductively. “What do I smell like?”

“Flowers, and soap. And sex,” he growled, his eyes dropping to her curls, his lips parting and his tongue sliding forward a little. “I want to taste you.”

She stood looking down at him, a cheeky glint in her eye. “But you’ve been flirting with someone else,” she said. “Maybe I haven’t finished punishing you for that.”

His eyes flicked back to hers, and she saw the surprise behind his desperate arousal and she smiled again. _Keep him guessing._ “What are you going to do?”

Venetia raised one elegantly clad foot and rested it on his chest. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Strike swore again, his hips writhing, as she slowly pressed the sharp point of the stiletto heel into the centre of his chest, hard enough to leave a mark. His eyes ran from the shoe up her leg and shamelessly drank in the glorious view of her sex, her lips glistening with moisture from her own arousal, flushed from her recent orgasm. He groaned deeply with need.

“Please,” he said roughly.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you want?”

“You,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You haven’t even touched me yet. Something, anything.”

Venetia nodded, and slid her foot gently off him to his other side, sliding it down his hip and clambering over him until she was straddling him on her knees. She lowered herself to sit on his thighs, ignoring his erection thrusting up between them, straining to bursting point.

“This enough?” she asked huskily. His arousal and need were so great, hers were rising again rapidly.

“Not nearly,” he rasped, his eyes on her breasts now.

Venetia reached up and pulled the pins from her hair, making him groan again as it tumbled down around her shoulders, releasing a fresh wave of the spicy perfume she wore.

Slowly, her eyes on his, she leaned down and kissed him.

His mouth seized hers hungrily, his tongue thrusting forward. He moaned and bucked his hips against her as he kissed her fiercely, his head straining up off the pillows to kiss her more deeply, and Venetia rocked against him, brushing her breasts over his chest, allowing his erection to rub against her belly. He groaned and rocked back against her, his hips trying to thrust upwards, seeking relief.

Venetia kissed him and kissed him, and then drew away and sat up, panting a little, watching his heaving breaths. She smiled.

“Maybe you haven’t waited long enough,” she mused, and turned to clamber off him.

With a fierce growl Strike snapped both restraints, seizing her and flipping her beneath him in one smooth movement. She moaned with delight and parted her thighs for him and he drove into her with a cry of need, burying his face in her neck, biting fiercely at her skin, bucking hard against her, growling and gasping into her neck. He was rock hard, swelling further within her, angled so that he was thrusting against her in just the right way, and her walls clutched at him, pleasure pulsing. Within a handful of fierce thrusts he came in a hot rush, growls choking into groans, pleasure rolling through him. The feel of his explosive orgasm drove Venetia over the edge again and she clung to him, sobbing with pleasure, contracting around him.

Strike collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving. “Jesus Christ, Venetia,” he gasped into her neck. “That was... Jesus Christ.”

She giggled, warm and fully sated, wrapping her arms around him. “You forgot that I’m supposed to be in control,” she murmured warmly.

He raised his head to grin at her, still breathing hard. “I lasted as long as I could, and then some,” he said, his voice hoarse still. He shuddered and pulsed again as aftershocks ran through him, pleasure still fizzing along his nerve endings. “Christ, that was good.”

She nodded, smirking at him. “It was meant to be.”

He rolled off her and pulled her to him, settling her head against his shoulder, his heart still pounding. She hugged him close and slowly they got their breath back.

Strike drew away a little and kissed her. “Shall we get into bed?”

Venetia nodded, and they climbed under the covers. She settled with her head on his chest, listening to his heart.

“I like our evenings together,” Strike murmured sleepily. “I hope you’ll find me again one day.”

Venetia laughed a little, sleepy too. “Maybe I will, if you play your cards right.”

“I want to see you in those knickers again, when I’ve got my second wind. And I still want to taste you.”

“I think I can cope with that.”

They drifted to sleep.

 


	8. Come With Me Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUT ALERT part 2 - if you wish to dot dot dot, move along to chapter 9...

“Let’s have a quick nightcap,” Nick said as they entered the hotel. Caitlin nodded and followed him through to the bar, looking around. There was no sign of Strike and Venetia.

Nick bought a Scotch for himself and a Bailey’s for Caitlin, and they made their way to a booth at the back. Caitlin sat one side, but instead of sitting opposite, Nick slid in next to her.

They chatted, sipping their drinks, and he kissed her a little, gentle for now, feeling her shiver against him. She tangled her fingers with his and they chatted some more, both unwilling to let the magical evening end.

Eventually Nick turned to her and met her brown eyes, his own hazel ones darkening with intent. He leaned in and kissed her again gently, exploring, his hand sliding into her hair. Caitlin shivered a little, kissing him back.

Nick drew away, his hand dropping to her arm, his fingers tracing lazy circles over the silky red fabric, watching the way it slid beneath his touch.

“So, Venetia hinted that you’d be on board with something a little...rough,” he murmured softly. He raised his eyes to hers, and for just a moment the game was suspended as he looked into his wife’s eyes, seeking her answer. He saw what he needed to see, excitement, arousal, a little nod, and he grinned wickedly, desire surging, and nodded back. He kissed her again, fiercely this time, and Caitlin moaned a little, her tongue meeting his, kissing him back just as fiercely.

“Let’s take this upstairs,” Nick whispered huskily, and she nodded, trembling, and stood and followed him to the lifts.

Nick said nothing more, but stood in silence as they waited for the lifts. Caitlin shivered in anticipation next to him. The lift arrived and they stepped in. It was empty.

The doors had barely closed when he turned to her, reaching for her, his mouth finding hers, jostling and crowding her against the wall of the lift. Caitlin gasped a little but kissed him back fiercely, pulling him against her, melting with desire. She clung to him as he leaned his weight into her, pinning her to the wall.

The kissed and kissed until the lift doors opened again and they broke apart, breathing heavily. Nick gazed into her brown eyes, his hazel ones dark with arousal. “Where’s your room?” he asked hoarsely.

Caitlin fumbled for the key card in her bag and handed it to him. “412,” she whispered. Nick took her hand and pulled her along the corridor to the door to room 412.

Nick slid the key card through the reader, pushed the door open and pulled Caitlin into the room, kicking the door closed behind them. He pressed her up against the wall again and kissed her fiercely, his tongue thrusting forward, invading her mouth, his hands in her hair. She gasped against his mouth at his onslaught but responded to him eagerly, kissing him back. His thigh slid between hers as he crowded her against the wall, and she sagged against him with a groan, still kissing him frantically. Nick could feel the heat in her core against his leg through the red silky dress as she rocked herself against him. He was fully hard already, aching for her, and he knew she’d be able to feel it. He ground himself against her, trying to relieve some of the pressure, and pleasure pulsed through him. She had surrendered to him the moment they stepped into her room, and he wanted to dominate her, ravish her, and he knew she wanted him to.

He drew back from her and she whimpered at the loss of him. Her eyes sought his, and he heard her breath hitch as he slid his hands from her hair to the wall, resting his palms flat either side of her head. She leaned her head back against the wall, still propped up on his thigh between hers, and gazed at him, panting, waiting to see what his next move would be.

His eyes locked with hers, Nick pressed his hips closer, circling, grinding her slowly and sensuously against the wall, enjoying her gasp as he took complete control. She gazed back at him, shuddering with arousal, as he pressed his hips against her.

Nick leaned down and kissed her again, his mouth exploring hers, less frantic now but assertive. With her still pinned to the wall by his hips, he leaned down again to run his lips and teeth along her jaw, along the cords in her neck as her head tipped back, down to nip at her collarbone. She was rocking her pelvis gently against him now, rubbing herself on his thigh, seeking relief. She jumped and moaned as he bit harder at the juncture where her neck met her shoulder, leaving a mark. He withdrew, his eyes glittering darkly at her, and kissed her again.

His hands moved from the wall to her waist, pulling her against him, crushing her to him. He kissed and kissed her, then broke free to run his mouth along her jaw again, burying his face in her neck as her head dropped back and a moan of desire escaped her, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

His hands slid up from her waist to cup her breasts in the dress, and he lowered his head to her cleavage to explore her with his mouth. “You looked magnificent this evening,” he murmured as he kissed his way across her flesh. “I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you.”

“I know,” she gasped. “This dress was chosen to have that effect.”

Nick grunted, still exploring. “It worked.” He bit gently at the sensitive flesh of her breast and she jumped a little again.

He kissed back up her neck, slid a hand down to her hip and then along her thigh, pulling her leg up to hook over his hip, pressing his thigh up under hers and grinding his erection against her. She groaned and thrust back at him, writhing beneath his touches. Her arousal fuelled his, and desire pulsed through him, hot and needy.

He slid his hands under her arse as she hooked her leg higher around him. He picked her up bodily, crushing her to him still, and she wound her legs around his waist, her hands clutching his head as he kissed her. They carried on kissing frantically as he carried her to the bed and leaned forward so that they half dropped, half fell onto it with him on top. At once his hands were seeking hers, his face in her neck, kissing and biting at her. He found her wrists and pushed them up above her head, pinning her to the mattress, his thigh between hers pressing upwards, his tongue laving across her neck and collarbone. All thought was gone, there was only this heat, this white hot desire, this need.

Nick pulled her dress open at the front, growling in appreciation at the sight of her black lacy bra. Her breasts were pushed up, inviting him to touch, to explore. He leaned down, burying his face in her again, kissing across her skin, feeling her breath catch and her chest rise to him as she dropped her head back. He pulled her bra aside so he could fasten his mouth on her nipple, biting gently at her, making her cry out.

Her hands scrabbled for his shirt as he explored her, tugging at his buttons. She swore under her breath as her fingers trembled and fumbled. She managed to get the top two undone, and then Nick drew back and stripped his shirt off over his head, throwing it aside and pulling her to her feet, dragging her up against him, kissing her fiercely.

He drew back, his eyes glittering dark with desire. “Take your dress off,” he ordered. Caitlin shuddered with arousal at his tone and stripped off her dress, wriggling out of it as she pulled it over her head and thew it aside. She reached behind herself to undo her bra. Nick undid his trousers, dropped them to the floor and kicked them aside, standing in just his boxers, his erection straining forward.

Caitlin dropped her bra and slid her knickers off and stood before him naked. Her gorgeous full breasts that had tantalised him all evening were taut and begging for his touch. Her eyes were dark with desire, but she waited, quivering, for his next move. She gazed up at him, unabashed, while he drank in every bit of her with his eyes, every curve. When his eyes dropped to the triangle of hair between her legs, she parted her legs a little more, a clear invitation. Nick shuddered with need at the sight of her, trembling and ready for him.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he said hoarsely, and kissed her again fiercely, his hands in her hair. She moaned and twined her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, kissing him back.

Nick pressed closer, his right hand sliding down around her waist, his left moving down across her stomach and sliding between her legs. She moaned and rocked against him. He cupped her, sliding his middle finger gently into her slick heat. “Is that what you want?” His voice was rough.

“I want...” She was breathless now, her arms clutching at him, pulling him closer. “I want you to fuck me.”

His erection pulsed against her belly at her words. “Oh, I’m going to,” he promised, eyes dark.

With another whimper she pushed his boxers down so he could step out of them. Her hands slid around his back again and pulled him closer, pressing herself against his erection, and he growled and slid his hand against her again. Caitlin wobbled as her knees buckled with pleasure. He slid back and forth, his fingers probing, thrusting into her roughly.

“Fucking hell, Nick,” she groaned, her hips flexing against his hand, and he drew back. He pushed her back to lie on the bed and crawled up over her. Her eyes were glazed with lust as she looked up at him.

He moved to one side. “Up here, properly,” he said, nodding towards the pillow. She wriggled her way up onto the bed fully. “Please...” she begged.

“What do you want?” he asked her again, hoarsely.

“I want you.” Her hands reached for him, sliding around his hips, gripping his arse and trying to pull him closer. Nick roughly pushed her knees apart and knelt between them, his hands either side of her shoulders, over her and above her, dominant. He could see the pleasure in her face as he arched over her.

He drew back a little and took her hands in his, pressing them down onto the bed either side of her head and pinning her wrists down. He moved his knees down a little, and saw the fierce desire in her eyes. She could tell what he was planning to do.

He dipped his hips to her, and she widened her legs for him, opening her thighs, flexing up against him, but he drew away. “Lie still,” he commanded, and she groaned and sank back.

He pressed forward again and found her entrance with his cock, stroking against her, rubbing slowly up and down across her, watching her glaze with pleasure, feeling her tremble with desire. She writhed against him, moaning, as he stroked her, rubbing across her clit. The head of his cock nudged into her and she cried out with pleasure and need.

“Do it,” she moaned. “God, please, Nick, _please._ I can’t take any more.”

The sound of her begging pushed him over the edge. With a groan he drove into her and held, his hips pressed against her but his arms still holding him arched over her, watching her face, her glassy-eyed pleasure. She gazed up at him and he knew she would see the same expression from him. He was nearly as far gone, the pleasure of her heat tight around him almost too much. He drew back almost fully, and then drove into her again, and she moaned again in pleasure.

“Jesus, Nick, just do it,” she begged. “Properly.”

“Yeah?” he panted, clinging to the edge of control, withdrawing slowly and thrusting hard into her again. Pleasure clenched at the base of his spine, coiling tight. “God, Caitlin, that’s so fucking good. What do you want me to do?”

“Fuck me,” she hissed. “Hard.”

He smouldered at her. “Okay,” he groaned raggedly, and pulled back and drove hard again and again, picking up a rhythm. Caitlin cried out in relief and delight, her head thrown back as he moved fiercely against her, sweat dripping from his brow, pleasure engulfing him. He dropped down to his forearms and thrust hard into her. Her legs locked around him, pulling him closer, reaching higher, her heel in his backside urging him on.

“Faster,” she sobbed, and he obliged, ramming into her, pounding hard. He was close to his climax but he knew she was with him, groaning deeply beneath him, both of them trying to hold out for as long as possible to prolong the pleasure.

Caitlin broke first, overwhelmed by arousal at his dominance. She arched beneath him and her muscles clutched at him fiercely, and she cried out in ecstasy as she came hard, almost bucking him off her as she convulsed beneath him. Unable to hold it off any longer, Nick followed seconds behind. He braced himself on one arm, the other sliding beneath her to drag her hips up to his as he pulsed into her, a shout escaping him at the force of his orgasm, his vision going white as pleasure splintered into every part of him.

He kept going as long as he could, driving her through it, and then collapsed against her, struggling to draw breath, his heart hammering, his vision only stars.

He rolled off her and lay gasping next to her, hearing her same breathless heaves next to him, their heartbeats gradually slowing.

Quiet settled over the room. They lay for a few minutes, weightless, satiated, peaceful.

“God, you’re good,” she groaned presently. “I think you killed me.”

Nick chuckled, relaxed and heavy. “I guess we’re pretty compatible.” The pleasure and relief in her voice, her boneless relaxation, gave him a surge of masculine pride. He felt utterly sated, drained. He rolled onto his side facing her and gazed down at her fondly.

She turned her head and looked at him. “Nick...” She smiled shyly.

He looked back at her and grinned. “May I stay the night?”

He face broke into a cheeky smile. “I’d like that,” she said, nodding.

Nick rolled off the bed, his legs a little wobbly from pleasure still, and went to the bathroom. When he came back, Caitlin hadn’t moved, sprawled naked and sated on the bed, her eyes half closed. He chuckled at her, feeling more than a little smug. “You look exhausted.”

She smiled sleepily. “Yeah.”

Nick padded to the bed and clambered over her, dipping his head to kiss her languidly. “Hey,” he murmured gently. “Get into bed with me?”

They climbed naked into the bed, enjoying the sensuous feel of the sheets on their skin. Nick’s body was relaxed and still humming with pleasure. He wrapped himself around her and was soon deeply asleep.

 


	9. Guiding Light

Ilsa crept down the corridor, her arms full of all her stuff and Robin’s. She hoped she hadn’t left anything behind, having had to gather everything up in the dark. She didn’t actually know which room Robin was in, and hadn’t dared text her for fear of waking Strike.

She giggled when she saw Robin coming towards her along the corridor in her Venetia dress, carrying her bag and heels. “Thank God,” Robin whispered when she saw her. “Let’s get to the loos downstairs and I can take this thing off.”

Ilsa, already in her jeans, nodded.

Half an hour later, presentable in normal daywear and towing their cases, the two friends were walking down the road to the station. Both wore light chiffon scarves; each had carefully not asked the other if hers was also to hide bite marks and bruises.

“Coffee,” groaned Ilsa. “I think I’ve only had about three hours’ sleep.”

Robin giggled. “Good night, then?”

“God, yes,” Ilsa said, dreamily. “Repeatedly!” She winked. “Bit sore today, but worth it! How about you?”

Robin blushed. “Same. Look, here’s a Costa.”

Ilsa groaned again. “Caffeine and calories. Exactly what I need.”

They went in to order large coffees and slabs of cake.

...

Strike was already at breakfast, bleary-eyed and unshaven and on his second mug of coffee, when Nick stumbled in, yawning. They shared a smirk and Nick went straight to the coffee machine.

He returned with a large mug and a handful of sugar packets and sat down. Strike watched, amused, as Nick opened three sugars and stirred them into his coffee.

“Good night, then?”

Nick nodded, grinning. “God, yes. We really should go away more often.”

Strike laughed. “We should! Doesn’t always happen, though, I’ve been away since the Chester trip and no Venetia. I was beginning to think it was a one-off.” He took another swig of his coffee.

Nick frowned. “What have you done to your wrist?”

“Oh, er, think I scraped it on something,” Strike said vaguely, pulling the sleeves of his jumper down. “I’m going out for a smoke.” He picked up his coffee and wandered off.

Nick took a welcome gulp of his own coffee and surveyed the breakfast options. He was hungry.

...

The girls found a table in Costa and sat down with their coffees and cakes. Ilsa winced slightly as she sat, and Robin giggled. Ilsa blushed.

“So, without too much detail, I take it Caitlin got her man?” Robin cut a large forkful from her slice of carrot cake.

Ilsa nodded dreamily, blowing on her latte a little. “Oh, indeed. And then some! He was quite keen to, er, repeat the experiment later. Just for research, of course. How did Venetia get on?”

“Oh, her experiment proved highly successful. It led to...further activities later.”

They giggled and turned their attention to wolfing down their cakes and replenishing their caffeine levels.

...

Strike ambled back into the restaurant and couldn’t find Nick. He was just looking around for him when Nick appeared with a handful of paperwork and sat down. “Just went to the desk to sort the bills,” he said. “I told Caitlin I’d sort the payment for the girls’ room.”

Strike nodded. “Let me know the total and I’ll pay half,” he said.

Nick flushed a little. “You’ll owe a bit less than half,” he said. “That’s why I went to talk to them. We had a, er, slight issue with our room.”

Strike looked at him.

“Broken chair.” Nick said succinctly.

Strike frowned. “Chair?”

“Yeah, you know, the desk chair. The swivel chair.”

“And they’ve charged you more? Shouldn’t they knock the price down a bit?”

“It, ah, wasn’t broken when we arrived.”

Strike sat back, running his hands through his unruly hair, grinning broadly. “Is that so? And how might that have happened?” he teased.

Nick went redder, then glanced up at Strike’s other wrist. He leaned forward.

“I’m not going to elaborate,” he said firmly. “And as a medical professional, I know friction burns when I see them. How about we agree to change the subject?”

Strike coughed and pulled his jumper sleeves down again. “Good plan. Full English?”

Nick nodded, smirking, and they went to join the queue.

...

On the train back to Paddington, Robin and Ilsa slept, dozing with their heads against the window, second coffees going cold between them.

 


End file.
